


A Call To Arms

by SteelGrace



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:49:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14531019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteelGrace/pseuds/SteelGrace
Summary: Prompted by the Question: Why must there always be a Stark in Winterfell?





	A Call To Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as a contest entry on House Danarya. Figured it was time to start sharing my works from the House to here. House Danarya is a forum of all things to due with the ship Dany/Arya.

No One slowly got ready for bed. Moving tiredly from the days training. The elder nameless had assigned her the task of pretending to be a prominent Water Dancer of Braavos, hiding his accidental death for a week as a test of her ability to act as another. No One had succeeded of course, though there were a couple close moments with a couple of the ladies favored by the former water dancer. Running fingers through her hair and kicking off her boots No One flopped down on the bed and almost instantly fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

 

Arya dreamed not of wolves or of vengeance but of halls. Long stone halls lit with torches and guarded by tall stone statues atop of tombs. Arya dreamed of the Winterfell crypt. She walked down the halls she used to visit and play in as child. Hide and seek with her brothers, Sansa never would join having labeled the place creepy. Arya though had always felt safe in this hall watch over by the Starks that had come before. The stone guardians atop the tombs, silent sentinels offering safety. She continued walking till she came upon a new statue and tomb. She stared at it for moment wondering which Stark this was, she didn’t remember this statue. Arya looked at the great sword in the Guardians grip, it was steel, good castle steel not iron like the others. She looked up into the face of the statue and stared hard at it. It was a new statue not one she had seen before and Arya had explored every inch of the Stark crypts. It hit her like a bolt of lightning and the thought made her heart ache fiercely as the tears she would never shed when she was awake flooded her eyes. _Father_. Arya closed her eyes and scrubbed at them hard trying to get the tears to stop. She didn’t know why she crying the statue didn’t even look all that much like him. It didn’t have the lines on his face, the hair wasn’t as long as it should have been, the beard wasn’t quite right, but this was all that was left of her father now, an empty stone tomb and a stone statue that looked nothing like him.

When Arya finally calmed her tears, and dried her face on a sleeve, she looked up and out at the hall. She didn’t avoid her father’s tomb, but she forced herself not to linger on it as she looked around hall. Searching for another new statue, there should be at least one newer statue close to her father’s. She searched ten feet to the left, returned to her father’s tomb, and then searched ten feet to the right. Nothing. Arya returned to her starting standing in front of the statue of her father. _Where was Robb’s tomb?_ Arya thought. Even if the body had never been recovered there should have been a place for him here. Robb had been the Lord however short his time as Lord Paramount and then King in the North had been, he should have been here, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t here, there was no statue for the first King of the North since Torrhen Stark.

Arya sits with her back to a stone wall, her arms hugging her knees to her chest. She stared up at an older Statue in one of the oldest parts of the crypt. She couldn’t bring herself to stay with her father’s empty tomb. This statue was a female warrior, the only female warrior in the crypt. She was clad in stone versions of leather, fur, and chain armor. Instead of a great sword of iron like the rest of the Lord’s statues she held twin blades at the ready. This statue was one of her favorites to sit in front of because Arya always thought this is the warrior I want to be. _She did it why can’t I?_

Arya closed her eyes and put her head on her upraised knees. Just taking a moment to rest. Strange, she thought, how do you feel tired in a dream? There was a sound of scrapping stone in the distance. Arya’s eyes flew open and her head popped up. She looked left to where the noise was coming from, unclasping her hands from her knees and falling forward into a crouched stance. More sounds of scrapping stone joined by the occasional sound of clanging metal. Arya throws herself toward the warrior woman’s tomb, and she wedges herself behind it. The sound of stone on stone and metal is now a constant and loud thing, it had a rhythmic like footsteps. Not just footsteps, marching. That was the sound, but it was wrong in a way, the steps too loud and they rang weirdly. Like the marchers were wearing stone boots. Arya froze when heard what sounded like breaking or crumbling stone. It was loud and nearby, _where?_ She carefully poked her head out from behind the tomb. Arya lifted her head just enough to see over the tomb, just in time to see the female stone guardian step off the top of the tomb and onto the floor.

She did her best not to move or give herself away as she watch the female stone statue sheath her twin blades in stone back sheaths. The sound was piercing as iron scraped against stone, a squealing noise that had Arya wincing. Blades sheathed stone hands fell from the hilt and the Warrioress pivoted towards her. Arya’s eyes flew up to meet the blank gaze and face of the statue watching her. They stare at each other for a moment, then the Warrioress turned and started walking down the hall. Arya dropped to her hands and knees and crawled out from behind the tomb to the edge of the alcove that once held the stone statue of the Warrioress. Before she could stick her head out another statue, male this time walked past with a stone and iron pike in his hand. He paid her no attention as he walked down the hall following the path of the Warrioress. Arya blinked _what?_ She crept forward the rest of the way and carefully looked out into the hall the stone warriors had walked down. She sucked in a deep breath as she watched as one by one the stone guardians hopped off the top of their tombs and marched out of the crypts.

Arya decided to follow the next stone Guardian to wake and leave its resting place in the crypt. She followed the guardian as it merged with a column of other stone warriors. There were now two columns of stone warriors marching through the Stark crypt and up into the courtyard of Winterfell. Arya continued to follow all the way up the stairs and into the courtyard. As she hit the last step and moved forward into the open light she felt the crisp wind blow through courtyard bringing with the scent of snow and pine. She didn’t let herself get distracted by the sudden homesickness in her heart as she quickly followed the twin columns of marching warriors through Winterfell.

The warriors marched through the Stark seat with a single-minded focus. Until the columns suddenly stopped, forcing Arya to stop as well to watch what they would do next. The warriors did nothing, standing straight at attention waiting for something. Arya looked forward towards the head of the columns, they had stopped at the gate leading out of Winterfell, but she couldn't see why they had stopped. Arya turned to look back, seeing a growing stalled double column. She puffed out a breath and in a single motion turns and starts running for the head of the columns stalled at the gate. It only takes her a couple of minutes to reach the head of the column and the gates. Then she sees what has stalled the columns, the gates are closed, and covering them is a thin sheen of metallic blue energy. The energy seems to crackle like lightning over the gates and even the walls around the gates. Arya can't see through the energy to world beyond the gate, every time she thinks she will get a glimpse of the outside world, the energy shifts and she loses all the progress she made trying to see beyond it.

Arya frustrated turns instead to the columns, and she sucks in a sharp breath at what she sees. At the head of one of the columns was her father's crypt statue, he did not have a sheath for his great sword (Ice's inferior in every way), in fact Arya noticed that not one of the newer statues had sheaths for their weapons. The eldest statues were the most intricate and life like, with fully realized armor, and weapons that differed from the newer statues uniform great swords and plain armor. Seeing the differences in the statues Arya asks herself at what point did they lose the ability to carve such intricate statues, did they just stop caring about the level of artistry, or she thought did they forget for what purpose the intricately carved statues of the Lords served. She studied the head of the column again finding the leader of the second column shoulder to shoulder with her father's statue, it was the Warrioress. _If it was possible for a statue to look displeased,_ Arya thought. The Warrioress' stone face seemed to pull in a frown even though it was made from unmoving stone. Arya shook her head, _Stone is obviously moving, and I'm having difficulty accepting facial expressions_. The statue of the Warrioress almost seemed frustrated like she would suddenly break from her place to start pacing in front of the barrier blocking the gates.

Arya slowly walked forward, closer to the Warrioress, her father's statue, and the gate. As she neared her Father's Statue and the Warrioress, the barrier blocking the gate seemed to roar to life hissing and throwing energy at her, to keep her at a distance. "Stop that!" she snapped as she stood just to side of the head of the column by her father's statue and the Warrioress. The crackling of the energy stopped hissing and seemed to settle down a little, looking less like it was about to shoot lightning at her and more like a rippling pond. Arya sighed and turned to look at the statues, only to find they were all now facing her, standing at attention weapons sheathed or at rest they seemed to watch her. She looked down the rest of the column find every statue now standing at attention facing the way she was standing. _Brilliant now what?_ Arya thought. She decided to ignore the rest of the statues and instead take a closer look at the gate.

Stepping closer to gate, Arya paused now and then in her track, just in case the gate decided to try sniping at her. She stopped within touching distance looking deep into the rippling surface. She could see her reflection, but she was not dressed as she had been in Braavos, or even how she had been dressed when she resided in Winterfell. No Arya was wearing northern style armor of leather, fur, and chain. The leather was dyed a dark grey, the chain had a light blue shine, and the fur was a blinding white. She had a sword belt with Needle slung on her right and a short sword slung on her left. Wait? Arya saw that the blue surface was no longer rippling, and a section had taken on a mirror finish like color so that she could see herself clearly.

In her reflected image she could see people standing over shoulder in rows upon rows and columns upon columns. A northern army ready to march at her command. She glanced over her shoulder finding the stone statues. Their only change was that they were now facing towards the gate again. Arya looked back to her reflection, again there were warriors of flesh and blood behind her. Standing in the front row of the army, in front of the pike line was Arya's Father and the Warrioress in the flesh and amongst the living once more.

Arya quickly turned to look over her shoulder once more hoping, but no, all she could see was cold expressionless stone. She faced forward taking sharp breaths to keep from releasing the tears that threatened to spill forth from her eyes without end. She locked glistening eyes with her father in the reflection. He was in his full armor, something she had only ever seen him wear once when she quite young, Ice was planted firmly in the ground and he had both hands on the grip. It was a familiar stance, one she had seen him take many times. He had that half smile on his face that was always reserved for her, the one that says, I'm proud and I love you. Arya does not attempt to turn around again, she could not bear the pain of seeing nothing but dead stone. She's suddenly feels angry, _why?_ Why must she be taunted like this? Why must her dreams be so cruel as to show something she would never have again? He father was gone, there was no changing that. Motion caught her eye, she focused on it seeing Warrioress making a motion with her hand. Forward she seemed to say, move forward. Arya is confused she can't go forward there is a barrier she can't cross, and it would probably zap her if she tried.

The Warrioress continues to motion her forward, now seeming to shift on the balls of her feet, wanting to go forth. Her Father seems to feel the same because he is giving Arya a look, the one that tells her there is obviously something she should be doing right now. Arya shifts on her own feet, that look was usually followed by having to endure more of Septa Mordane's needle point lessons. Her Father mouths something she doesn't quite catch. She squints and slowing she makes out what he is saying. TOUCH. THE. GATE. AND. TELL. IT. TO. OPEN. _Right like it will obey me simple because I have given an order,_ she rolls her eyes before tilting her head a little in thought, _Wait._

Arya takes a deep breath and reaches out to touch the barrier. Her fingers touch the barrier and it feels warm, like its alive almost. She settles her hand fully on the surface of the barrier before taking breath and speaking firmly with a confidence shaped from surviving against all odds, "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell and you will open this gate." A bright flash white streaked through the surface of the barrier before the entire thing vanished from beneath her hand, leaving the gate open, and the way clear.

Arya did not look back as she strode forward the open archway leading out of Winterfell. From behind she hears stone boots marching once more. She knew where she was going now, she did not know how she knew, she just did. She continued to march onward for what felt like hours but should have been days because in the distance she could see what could only be The Wall. Arya stops walking as she takes in the site before her, barely acknowledging the two figures that step up on either side of her. The Wall has a crack in it! It is in fact a massive crack that seems to grow bigger as she watches.

For the time in years Arya hears her father speak from beside her, "We have time not much, but some." Arya nearly breaks her own neck with the speed she uses to turn her head. There standing as if flesh and blood once more is her father. He looks down at her and she can still see some faint stone like characteristics in his features, but he looks alive. He smiles causing crinkles to crease at the edges of his eyes and says, "It's time to come home cub. We need you. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell." He pauses, and he face turns serious, but his eyes, the Stark grey eyes she shares with him, they say he loves her and he’s proud. "You are now the Stark, Arya it's time to come home." Another voice speaks up from her other side causing Arya to reluctantly pull her eyes away from her father. She looks to see the Warrioress looking at her with a fierce smile as she speaks, "We need you here to call us to arms, cub." She jerks her head in the direction of the Wall, "We can't join the party without help. So, haul ass, cub." Warrioress turns back to wall with an eager glitter in her eyes, flicking a thumb backward as she does.

Arya reluctantly turns her head to look, turning fully once she registers what's behind her. Row after row and column after column of Stark warriors given life once more are assembled into an army. When they see they have her attention they release a roar like wave of sound and rattle weapons, stamping their feet in a show of readiness. The roar turning into a single coherent cry, "Stark!" Arya feeling a rush of energy turned around and took a step forward, right off the side of her cot in the House of Black and White. She ended up in a heap of tangled blankets. Struggling for a moment Arya kicks free of the blankets and rolls over onto her back looking at the ceiling. She breathed slowly through her nose and whispers, "I am Arya Stark of Winterfell and I am going home!"


End file.
